With the Lesser Enemy
by Lemonesque
Summary: Hermione and Draco accidently reunite in London much to their chagrin, but get kidnapped by a muggle organization interested in conducting magical experimentation and research. Who should they hate more, each other or the muggles? [M for language & smut]


Author's Note: This is a second publication of With the Lesser Enemy. I've attempted to catch my previous mistakes and flesh out the plot a bit more than I previously written. I hope you guys continue to enjoy reading this. I apologize for long periods between updates but real life frequently calls me back from my laptop. Not HPDH compliant.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling. And yes, there is some Dr. Who influence to the plot line...

**With the Lesser Enemy**

_Three years have passed since the Golden Trio abandoned their Hogwarts education to search out the remaining Horcruxes. The Order continues to battle the rising influence of the Dark Lord while the Ministry is scrambling to keep the wizarding community hidden from the muggle media._

Hermione Granger was not a particular friend of English summers. The humidity in the air refused to cooperate with her already untamed hair, the result of which was a frizzy brunette tangle pulled back at the nape of her neck. Traveling via muggle transport only increased her misery, as the underground had no air-conditioning to keep the sweat off her skin.

The tube pulled to a halt at the Belsize Park station, and she squeezed her way through to the door in order to hop over the gap onto the crowded platform. The evening sunlight was as welcome to her as the fresh air topside. Hermione set out towards her favourite London park, Hampstead Heath. She had been order to London by Harry after a long month of researching the protective curses in the Headmaster's library at Hogwarts. Her best friends had done similar research within the Restricted Section in the main library, seeking out spells meant to hide and conceal dark objects. Most of their time had proved to be unfruitful though one book Hermione had managed to translate most of had sent Harry and Ron to Romania looking for a special ingredients for a countercurse. The official story was a visit to Ron's brother Charlie, though an editorial at the Daily Prophet had twisted the news and announced that the Boy Who Lived was looking into an army of Dragon Riders to battle the imminent number of Inferi roaming the English coastlines.

_Hermione sat in one of the Weasley's dining chairs, cradling a steam mug of tea between her hands. Her eyes strained to keep Harry in focus. He and Ron sat on the other side of the table as Mrs. Weasley placed a plate of sandwiches in front of them. Harry thanked Molly and turned his attention back to Hermione. The motherly witch saw herself out of the kitchen before Ron spoke._

"_It's not that we don't want you with us. The story just works better with the two of us. Dragons aren't particularly a womanly interest."_

"_I had higher marks than you two in Herbology every year." Hermione protested._

_Harry smiled and gave Ron a knowing look. "And that's why you made out the notes for us. Darling, we need you to rest and recover. You worked more than both us at Hogwarts. I thought Molly was going to murder us both when she saw you on the doorstep yesterday morning."_

"_Well, she murdered me." Ron grumbled, starting on the sandwiches._

"_The thing we need from you the most is your potions knowledge. You're the one who translated the recipe. We'll need that knowledge and expertise when Ron and I return. Right now you're as sharp as a bowl of pudding and you can't see straight."_

_Hermione stared woefully at her drink. "So I'm supposed to stay here and play house?"_

"_Merlin, no, not if you don't want to," Harry laughed, "Go into muggle London, because I also think you need to get away from here. Get away from the news and the pressure of the Order for awhile. Go be twenty for once."_

So here she was. Feeling useless (the worse feeling of all), but rather glad the boys had forced her to do something enjoyable outside of their work.

The walk to the Heath was relatively short, but it was the march to the top that made her short of breathe. Once Hermione was there though, the view was worth it. She collapsed happily onto a bench and looked over London as the sun made its way down towards the skyline. She had come here with her parents often as a child, but... it wasn't safe to get together with them anymore. Not often, at least. The less the Death-eaters knew about her family, the safer they were.

She remained on the bench for some time, enjoying the view and wondering where she would grab dinner before heading back to her hotel room. It was safer to operate among muggles when on a mission, the Order had discovered. The Death-eaters was a little more cautious; not much, but enough that it made a difference. So Hermione had done the same for her "vacation." She didn't really miss the busy Burrow, but she did miss the home she had grown up in as a child. Mum and Dad had gotten a puppy last Christmas, to fill up the emptiness of their house.

As though on cue, a dog blundered into her view, yipping and chasing an invisible foe. Not quite a puppy, though small. A terrier of some sort. Cute and lovable, in her opinion. She smiled and was joyously surprised when the dog brought a ball to her feet. Bending over, she playfully wrestled with it, until a male voice came up behind her and said, "I'm sorry, miss. Cerberus, come back here."

The dog sat firmly on her shoes to waggle his tail happily against her ankles, and Hermione twisted to look at the owner. "No, it's quite fine. I really like d-"

She locked eyes with a tall, blond-haired young man, who started as he recognized her.

"_Malfoy?!_" she whispered.

He bolted towards the path. With more agility than she realized she had, Hermione had jumped over the bench and followed at a sprint. Cerberus happily followed with his ball, running back and forth between the two.

"Stop, wait, Malfoy-" she shouted in vain, trying not to run into the other park visitors who stared wonderingly at the two young people running down the hillside.

Hermione had a stitch in her side by the time they had reached the bottom, but Malfoy showed no sign of slowing down. Why was he here? Draco Malfoy had been down as missing every since the incident at Hogwarts three years ago. The Order assumed he was dead, tracked down by the Deatheaters and killed for failure. But here he was, in muggle London, no less!

"MALFOY."

He apparently glanced back at a bad moment, because one moment Hermione could see the fear in his grey eyes, and the next sent the Slytherin Prince falling flat on his face in the dirt. Oh-so-innocent Cerberus sat in the dust next to his owner, wagging his tail happily and licking Malfoy's face. Hermione skidded to a halt, clutching her side and panting.

"Where - the hell - have you been?" she wheezed after a moment. There was no answer and she finally looked up to see him brushing dirt off his face.

"What the hell do you want with me?" he hissed under his breathe realizing she was looking at him. Hermione stared, incredulous. What did he mean? Draco looked more angry, more frightened if that was possible, than she had ever seen him. "Can you stupid people leave me alone? _They'll_ find me, damnit. _Go_ _away._"

"Malfoy, what do yo- Everyone thinks you're dead!" Hermione said in harsh surprise. She saw him finger his pocket and it dawned her her that he was considering drawing his wand out in a public area.

Malfoy pushed himself to his feet, and rather than confront her with a stick of wood, he grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her over behind a large, somewhat secluded walnut tree. She was mere inches away from his face for five seconds. His blond hair had grown out in three years, hanging like silk in front of his face. He was thinner, too, and taller. But it was him. "They know I'm not. I finally found somewhere safe, and you had to go stick your little mudblood nose around, didn't you, and-"

"I'm on a vacation, you nit-wit!" she spat. "Your dog ran into _me, _not the other way around!"

Now she remembered why they had hated each other at Hogwarts. He had always been so rude, so arrogant, so assuming. Three years hadn't done anything for his personality. And to think that she, muggleborn Hermione Granger, had pitied him ever since Harry had described the scene at the top of the astronomy tower. Her best friend brooded for months over Voldemort's cruel mission, forcing a young boy to try and kill Dumbledore. She couldn't believe he had wasted his sympathy on the snarling man in front of her.

A small bark from the area of their legs indicted that Malfoy's terrier was not to be left out of the fun. He whined around the ball clenched in his mouth.

"You _followed _me, Granger." he pointed out, suspiciously, throwing the ball a far as he could. Cerberus dashed away on his small legs.

Hermione blinked. "Well, yes-" It had seemed the thing to do.

"Of course, you have to know everything. Well, keep your brown nose out of this situation and go back to your wonder boys."

"Harry was worried about you, you twit! And so were the rest of us, thinking you'd been dead, another young casualty that shouldn't have happened!" she growled.

Malfoy lifted one beautifully arched eyebrow. "That idiot Potter? He had no reason to. Go away, before they find me. Or I'll hex you."

"You wouldn't."

His eyes became steely. "Don't assume anything, Granger. You don't know me anymore."

"Really?"

"I'd kill. I have... killed. Now please just leave." Malfoy began moving back towards one of the less walked paths.

Please? She jogged to catch up with him, Cerberus on their heels. "Okay, you're right about me being too curious for my own good, but seriously. How have you remained hidden from our world from this long? You were missing since before your seventeenth birthday."

Malfoy's laugh was cold. "I don't have to tell you a thing."

"But it could help others. If you of all people found a way to remain hidden from the Deatheaters, I need to know! I need to take it back to the Order and..." She trailed off. There was a look in his eyes that informed her she had erred. His tone barely clung to civility when he finally answered her.

"Look, mud-blood, just because I'm not on their side, doesn't mean I'm on yours. I hate you guys more than I hate them, got it? I'd like nothing more than to see your pretty Chosen Hero's body smeared down the cobble stones of Diagon Alley, so scram!"

She gasped at the vehement hatred dripping from her voice. When had the days of simple school rivalry turned someone so young so full of violent anger.

"Why?"

"'Why, why, why?' Pathetic." sneered Malfoy, "I'm not Professor McGonagall, don't expect me to reward you with points for learning the most in class."

She lifted her hand to slap him, but some part of her hinted her it was a bad idea. provoking another wizard while near muggles... Hermione paused. But Malfoy suddenly paused as well. A muggle was walking by with a large basket of roses. He waited for the man to pass, but instead, the vendor came right up to them.

"A romantic walk? A pretty rose for your lady-friend?" He asked sweetly, holding out a half dozen roses to Malfoy. "It's sure to help win her over!"

"No, go away." Malfoy snapped, trying to wave the blooms aside.

The vendor was persistent and shoved the bouquet straight towards the young man's face. "She is so lovely. I would reconsider!"

Hermione had thought Malfoy was screwing up his face in distaste before she realized it was something else. Cerberus began barking at the rose vendor as Malfoy crumpled into a heap. She started to go down on her knees to check him only to have the basket thrust into her arms.

The smell of the roses was sickly and musky, like the hookah Bill smoked when he trying to relax. Nothing at all like how roses were supposed to smell... like... More... like... dreams...

Her vision faded as she too fell, straight into the arms of another muggle "passer-by."

-----

She hadn't been this hung-over since she and the boys had mistakenly downed five bottles of Firewhiskey at Ginny's birthday two years back. The only problem that Hermione could identify with this situation was that she couldn't remember having drunk anything. So where was she?

The room in front of her would not stop swimming. She blinked repeatedly, trying not to move. Underneath her was a cold, hard floor that had done no amount of good for her sore limbs while she had been unconscious. Had she passed out in the twins' storeroom? No... she had been in London... a bar, then? But she didn't drink without company.

What HAD she been doing?

"I'm going to kill Fred if he spiked my water again..." she muttered, groaning and running the back of her hand over her eyes.

Things and objects became more solidified. She was in a room, which was relatively nondescript except for its lack of windows. A table, two chairs... The floor was tile, with a blue rug in one corner. She couldn't have fallen asleep on the rug? Or... the bed, the _two _beds in opposite corners of the room. Two beds? Why two...?

Then her eyes fell on the other huddled, still unconscious body next to her. A platinum-blonde, pale-skinned body. Draco Malfoy almost looked like an angel when he was sleeping.

But he wasn't sleeping... Like a mallet to her head, Hermione remembered the drugged roses and the dim memory of being carried away by the muggle vendor and others. She was barely aware of what she was doing as she managed to push herself to her feet and wobble over the table. She had to grip the table to keep herself upright, but she managed to get a better look at the room. One door. One most-likely locked door.

Kidnapped. Hermione cursed and sat herself down heavily. The chair jerked and screeched against the tile like a banshee. It was that sound that pierced through Malfoy's drugged dreams and jolted him awake.

"What in all of Styx was that god-awful racket?"

Hermione groaned as his voice echoed loudly off the walls. "My chair. Now just shut up."

Silence from his corner, then... wait for it... "Granger, where the fuck have you brought me?!" They both winced as the sound hit them again.

"You mean, where the fuck have _they_ brought _us_?" she corrected in a whisper, not bothering to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he whispered angrily from his position on the floor. Malfoy made no effort at trying to get to his feet.

"Malfoy, I know you just woke up with a headache from the depths of hell, but it doesn't keep you from using your head. Look around the room," she snapped, as she did so herself a second time. It wasn't necessarily comfortable, but it wasn't a dungeon prison either. "Do you really think the Order has a place like this? And that I'd be locked in here, _with_ you?

"What am I supposed to think, stupid mudblood? It's still your fault that I'm here, isn't it? Same damn difference."

Whatever. She'd just ignore him. Once she got her head cleared, she'd just find her wand and try to Apparate from whatever stupid muggle place this was. The lack of magical apparatuses in the room was a definite testiment to the fact. Everything seemed too muggle-made. No self-appreciating witch or wizard would use fold-out chairs, for example.

Hermione reached for her wand. Which wasn't there. Which meant her muggle captors had known what her wand was and had confiscated it. Why hadn't she seen the danger coming? She was always on edge for a Deatheater attack she had never though to be suspicious of her own roots. "I don't believe how stupid I am..."

She repeatedly hit her head to the table a couple of times.


End file.
